What defines your life?
by Rago Dragovian
Summary: Based on the Michael ending. In the end, Michael's dissatisfaction and confusion with life became Franklin's problem. In the end, as we all grow older; we realize justice, karma, and fairness are just words used to comfort ourselves. In the end, Franklin learned the hard way that redemption doesn't exist.


A/N: GTA5 is Rockstar games property. Etc. Etc.

* * *

"You knew this was comin' Pops." said the younger boy to his father.

"Thomas… Y-you?!" answered a 41 year old Franklin Clinton. "You? Of all the people who come to pop me… you? How could you betray your own father like this!"

"That's some funny shit comin' from you, Pops!" responded Thomas smarmily, the young boy in dreads looked like a spitting image of his father. All he inherited from his mother was her eye color. "I found out everythin; That yous was the one responsible for Uncle Lamar's death AND Uncle T's death!"

Thomas shakily put his gun toward his father. Tears streamed from his eyes but the rage was clear in his visage. Thomas began holding the pistol with both hands to steady his shaking.

"Lamar and Trevor? That's what this about?" said Franklin in agitation. "Them fools? Son, your Uncle Lamar was an idiot! He was about to get popped sooner or later. And you know how Trevor roles, always doing that dangerous shit. I did it for the family! I couldn't have him-"

"BULLSHIT!" snarled Thomas as he cut off his father's explanation. "Bull-fucking-shit! You sold out Uncle Lamar! He was like blood to the family. You two grew up together and you let those weed niggas just have him! And Uncle T was doing his best to look out for us!"

"He didn't have to do all that shit for us. Getting the FIB scared of us and then you go and squeal and pop him!"

"I was protecting the family! What else do you think would happen once they caught on?!" snarled Franklin in anger. He couldn't believe this conversation outside of the power station where…

'_SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.' _thought Franklin frantically. '_I've got to get him to calm down!'_

"MORE BULLSHIT!" roared Thomas as his face contorted in rage. His entire body was shaking now. Tears stopped streaming from his eyes as he gave his father an utterly loathsome look. "That isn't all this is about. It isn't just about you being a drug-dealing, murdering, and lying traitor to the fam. I found out about mom's past. I always wondered why she kept quiet."

Franklin felt his heart sink. That was not a topic that he liked to bring up. His wife had never discussed the matter with their two kids and Franklin was happier to have it that way. Perhaps then they could pretend to be a normal family but now all the secrets were out.

"YOU PSYCHO! You killed mom's family and then you… you…" Thomas became silent as his eyes bore into Franklin's with a mixture of terror and hatred.

"Now… now… son, look, it ain't got to be this way. We can just cool off our heads and-" Franklin was cut off as Thomas fired a shot. A bang went out into the cold and dark night.

Franklin clenched his teeth in pain as a burning sensation enveloped his shoulder. He grabbed the injured area and hissed in pain.

"You fucking foo; what the fuck yous think you doin'?!" shouted Franklin losing his calm demeanor and vocabulary. He stared at his son in anger. He couldn't believe this! "Fuck, I put my neck out for yous, risk my life daily for yous, and try and raise you right but this is what I get out of it? What the fuck, you idiot?!"

"Rapist." spat Thomas quietly. He held his gun more steadily and pointed it directly at Franklin's head.

"Nigga, what the fuck yous mean, rapist?!" shouted Franklin in loathing of his situation.

'_Where the hell did this fool boy get the idea that I'm a rapist?!' _thought Franklin in pure frustration, '_Who does he think I…. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!' _

"Son, I did NOT rape your mother!" hollered Franklin agitated. "Where the fuck did you get that idea? Who the fuck told you that I did such bullshit?"

"I FIGURED IT OUT BY MYSELF!" thundered Thomas in rebuke. "How else do any of this shit make any fuckin' sense?! Why the fuck would mom be wit a murdering nigga like you?!"

"Nigga, I didn' rape her. If anything, she raped me!" said Franklin heatedly.

Franklin realized just how stupid that had come out. He ducked under a bullet that nearly killed him. He ran to the right where the power station was. He swerved and ran erratically away from his son firing off gunshots nearby.

His son wasn't a skilled marksman and had no experience holding a weapon. Franklin was smart enough to keep his family away from his professional life. His children were supposed to be leaving for college within the month. Franklin had finally got himself away from the life of crime and being Devin Weston's stooge. Neither his professional nor personal lives were easy but he had tried his best. He had done everything to keep his family protected; including betraying Lamar and Trevor.

Now, all of that was going south because his son had found out and misconstrued certain events regarding his uneasy marriage to his wife.

'_She should never have picked me.' _thought Franklin bitterly. He was lying to himself and he knew it. She never had a choice because of Weston turning out to be an even bigger psychopath than anyone had realized. Franklin shouldn't have been surprised. In retrospect, finding out the real events between Michael and the death of Weston's attorney was an inkling to what sort of real person that Weston was. Nobody just turns batshit crazy. Weston was an abusive influence on anyone because of his sadistic tendencies.

A shot hit Franklin in the back as he ran up the stairs of the large power plant. Suddenly feeling induced by rage from the painful gunshot wound, Franklin pulled out his micro SMG and pointed at where he knew the enemy to be.

He paused with his finger on the trigger as the gun was directly towards his son's head. His son paused in shock and horror. The boy looked like a deer stuck in headlights; a total amateur in the life of crime. Franklin observed tears of fright coming from the young boy.

Franklin snapped back to sense and pulled his gun up and away from his son.

'_What the fuck did I almost just do? Fuckin' shit…'_

The boy had got out of his fright and was stomping up the metal stairs loudly. Franklin loathed himself more than any other previous time in his life. He had been one finger twitch away from blowing his own child's brains out. Franklin felt sick with himself. He rapidly moved up the Power Station to avoid the poorly aimed bullet fire.

Thomas wouldn't understand. He didn't know what it was like for a body to react in the heat of the moment during a hailstorm of gunfire. Franklin was more reactive to gunfire than others. His instincts and constant practice made him more ready to fire bullets at the opposing gunfire. He had to be to survive in sticky situations as he had done all his life.

Thus, when Franklin heard gunfire, he simply pulled out his weapon of choice on the enemy combatant. It was about survival during the moments of life threatening danger and nothing else. You followed the group that helps you out but only because it is necessary for your own survival. There is no God, heaven, or heroes coming to save your ass. It's just you, the crew with you, and the enemy opposing you that needs to be eliminated. He always had to be battle-ready.

Franklin stopped at the top of the power station to catch his breath. He was no longer the young man with skillful reflexes. He couldn't keep running himself ragged like this anymore. The stress was killing him.

"Hey, yo, Pops!" shouted Thomas as he pointed a gun shakily at his father.

Franklin turned to look behind him. '_SHIT!' _

Franklin dove to the floor to avoid a bullet and then got back up. He ran as fast as he could with the burst of adrenaline left inside him. Unsure of where his father may attack from, Thomas pointed his gun from left to right.

Franklin was gasping for breath as he tried to recover from how fast he had run up the tower. He tried to think of how to stop his son from acting stupid, tried to think of how to assuage his son's concerns and explain things, and what his wife and daughter were going to think of this bullshit. He couldn't keep this up for much longer and he was trying to think in terms of negotiation. He certainly didn't want his son to die or start up a life of crime out of some misguided rebellious feelings for him.

Suddenly, he felt something slam onto the back of his head and felt himself being shoved forcefully. Franklin just barely managed to grab onto the railing with his good arm. He stared up to see the demented and indifferent eyes of his son. A pistol pointed right at Franklin's face.

"Thomas… stop! You're my son. How could you treat me like this?!" said Franklin frantically.

'_You were like a son to me, Franklin!'_

Franklin found himself recollecting one of Michael de Santa's last words the night that he killed him. Twenty years ago and he was here facing almost the same situation that Michael had. Franklin felt a crippling stab in his chest that was unlike any of the bullet wounds. The bullet wounds felt like fire coursing through his body but this stabbing feeling felt far worse. He looked up at the cold eyes of his son and wondered if this was how Michael had felt that night.

"I'm sorry…" the words slipped out of Franklin's mouth before he realized that he had uttered them.

Not wanting his son to pull the trigger and become a murderer, Franklin let go of the railing on his own. Tears fell from his eyes as he looked up to see his son's bewildered face for the last time.

'_I deserve this.'_

* * *

_Flashback:_

"Hey Frankie!" said Devin as Franklin opened the door. "Been about a year, good to see ya!"

"Man, what the fuck you doin' back here?" said Franklin angrily, "I ain't doin' no shit for yous."

Franklin abruptly closed and locked the door. He moved toward the kitchen only to turn around in surprise as the door blew open and Merryweather troops began storming the inside of his house. Franklin hadn't seen them behind Devin as he had only opened his front door slightly ajar.

Franklin fled to the kitchen and ducked nearby the side of the windows. He pulled up a loaded RPG and pointed it towards the front entrance where the Merryweather troops were stationed.

"Don't think I won't do it." said Franklin dangerously. "Leave and don' yous dare come back."

"Holy shit!" said Devin nervously before resuming his cool and sarcastic composure. "Woah there, homie. I think you better settle down there if you know what's good for ya."

"That's funny, suddenly you have my best interests in mind?" said Franklin sharply.

The glass windows nearby the kitchen suddenly broke and Merryweather troops were storming from there. Franklin cursed upon not having recognized the trap. One of them pulled up a gun with Chop being forcibly held down on the floor.

"Calm down and put it down or the little fat dog gets it!" said Weston laughing. He treated this like some sort of game as if he was playing the part of a supervillain.

"Let my dog go or else I WILL blow you fuckers' away." threatened Franklin. He wasn't dealing with their shit. Not today and certainly not ever again.

Devin Weston chose to ignore him and instead snapped his fingers. Merryweather troops shoved a blonde girl in a white shower robe. The girl fell on the floor. The girl looked disheveled and Franklin could faintly make out a few bruises on her arms and face. She was crying from what Franklin could make of the sounds. What made it more obvious was the fact that her hands were covering her face but that prevented Franklin from getting a good look at what the girl looked like.

"What is this bullshit?" said Franklin. He wanted a damn explanation of just what the fuck was going on.

They ignored him. Devin looked at one of his armed soldiers and pointed to the crying girl. The soldier took hold of the girl's bathrobe from the back and pulled it. The girl desperately held onto the robe. However, when she turned to see the soldier pull out a switchblade, she stopped resisting and the soldier pulled off the bathrobe to reveal the girl in the nude.

Franklin's jaw dropped at the gorgeous body of the white girl on the floor. It was his undoing. One of the Merryweather soldier's shot at Franklin's right hand and forced him to drop the RPG. It had simply grazed him but the situation had changed. Franklin held his arms up as Merryweather troops pointed their loaded combat weapons at him.

Devin went over and pulled a fist full of the blonde's hair. She screeched in pain as she was forced up. Her body shook in terror. Franklin could now see her face and his eyes widened in terror. Tracey de Santa, daughter of Michael de Santa; the former mentor who he killed just a year ago today.

'_What the fuck has this crazy fool done to Michael's family?!'_

Devin pulled a gun out and pointed it at Tracey's head.

"I believe you've been acquainted." said Devin with a hint of delight. "This is Tracey de Santa, the last living kin to Michael de Santa, the man that you killed for me just a year ago on this day."

Tracey's eyes widened as she stared at Franklin in utter horror. Franklin mentally hit himself for having listened to and followed through what this psychopath had ordered him to do. He had made his choices and back then it seemed like the right one since Michael had thrown his problems on Franklin. Even after Franklin had saved Michael, he had learned Michael was a backstabbing cheat who tattled to the FIB. The choice had seemed obvious to Franklin back then but he hadn't anticipated Devin Weston to be a malicious psychopath.

"Last living kin?" asked Franklin afraid of what Devin meant. It was obvious though. A sick feeling flowed through Franklin.

"Oh yes, you see Frankie boy, when I got those FIB agents fired; I decided to make a purchase and ah… _acquire _the files on Michael to see what else he did to screw me over. There wasn't anything else but I decided why not have some more fun anyway?" said Weston. A serene smile encompassed his visage. "After all, those soldiers I graciously sent to protect his wife and daughter from any threats as they made it to the movie premiere had been killed by Michael himself. So I thought some… _pay back _of lost human resources was in order."

"I found your little spyboy Leslie, or something. Found out where he was hiding and borrowed some of his equipment. I lit a bonfire at his home to show my appreciation."

Franklin's jaw dropped upon finding out that Lester was now dead. A feeling of panic erupted within Franklin.

'_Where the fuck is all this leading?!'_

Franklin wanted Devin to get to the point but was fearful of what Devin was about to say at the same time. Without Lester, there was no way for Franklin to adequately combat against Devin.

"I found out where Michael's cut of your little bank rollout went. I'm impressed by the way! I didn't realize that you and that crazy man had such marketable skills. Anyway, I tracked the money and decided to demand Michael's wife and kids shoot a porno movie for me in payment for Michael being co-producer to that Meltdown trainwreck."

At this, Weston smiled as he began stroking the left side of Tracey's nude belly. Franklin noticed Tracey shiver in revulsion.

"I was going to call the porno, mommy sandwich. It was going to star actress Amanda de Santa playing the mother, child actor Jimmy de Santa playing the son, and the sexy actress here but… oh well, they didn't want to do it. They began resisting so much that I got irritated. I had them shoot the kid for trying to tea-bag one of my soldiers and my soldiers got to have their way with the mother before I stepped in and put her out of her misery. That was only after I had some fun with her, of course."

Franklin felt revulsion waft through him. This man was far more sick and horrific than Trevor. He had assumed Trevor had screws loose but this…

"Which brings me to her." said Devin shoving Tracey to the floor and pointing a gun at the downed girl. Tracey rolled herself into a ball and began shaking. Fresh new tears streaked her face. "I was going to keep this one around to make her my… ah, what do you call it? My little plaything. But I have too many of those already. Some much younger than her and I have practically two for every country I visit. It's good business to keep a hands-on approach on the grunt work of your company."

"So I stored her away for a few months. I beat her up a bit since she was shrieking early on but she's still marketable goods. And, since I never paid ya for those car deals or clipping Michael, I thought I'd present to you this fine opportunity." said Weston with his gun pointed firmly at Tracey's head. "Pick which bitch that you want saved. If you pick the bitch you currently own, I'll walk away and never bother you again, nothing I do will be a problem for you ever again just as nothing before this night was your problem. If you pick the bitch that I'm here to sell to you, the price will be your cooperative lifetime service until I'm bored. Oh, and this is a guaranteed promise, this bitch will be yours to do with as you please."

"Wh-what?!" said Franklin in disbelief. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. "Y-you… _what_?!"

"What's it gonna be?!" said Weston sharply. Franklin was brought out from the shock of Devin's proposal. "Well, homie? Which do you pick, the bitch you have or this bitch right here?"

Franklin stared towards Chop to see his dog whimpering at the barrel of a pistol and then turned to see Devin's pistol firmly planted on Tracey's head. Tracey stared up at him in some type of detached trance before closing her eyes as if accepting her fate.

"Fuck! Goddamnit!" shouted Franklin lowering his hands. The combat rifles were still pointed at him. "I'm sorry Chop but I pick Tracey."

"What's that? I don't know the difference between this or that bitch." said Devin in glee. "The nude bitch or the furry bitch? Which do you want to own? Say it too! Say which one you want to own or else I might have them both euthanized."

"I want to own the blond bitch!" said Franklin in desperation.

"Hahahaha!" laughed Weston moving away from Tracey and pocketing his gun. A gunshot rung from the right of Franklin as Chop fell to the floor dead. The soldiers to the right grabbed the dog and dispersed to the chopper at the bottom of the hill. Franklin turned to Weston. "Now remember, homie, you're my bitch now. I own the police, the FIB, and certain high-end places in other countries. And now, I own you. My lifetime payment to you is this bitch. If you disagree at any point in the future, feel free to speak to my snipers. They'll be around twenty-four seven; I guarantee it."

After Devin said his piece, he and his Merryweather troops departed. One of them threw a CD onto the couch.

"A home movie as a parting gift." said the soldier before he left with the others.

Franklin stared stupidly at what just happened. His brain attempted to process the events. He couldn't believe everything that had just happened. His entire life was turned around once again because of his association to Michael de Santa. Franklin sighed before moving to the shaking and crying girl on the floor.

He knelt down. "Tracey, come on, let's get yous into something warm."

Tracey sat up covering her pussy with her legs and her chest with her left arm. She shook her head frantically.

"He said that… that… we had to watch the CD or else…." spoke Tracey quietly. She didn't look in his direction at all. She was clearly far too ashamed. "We… we… have to. He… said so."

Franklin sighed tiredly. He held out his hand but Tracey got up by herself and walked towards the couch where she picked up the CD. Franklin felt an urge to take her but shook his head to distance himself from those perverted thoughts. Franklin took the CD from her and put it in the PS3 blu-ray player before taking the remote control to turn on the TV. He configured the settings to play the DVD.

Franklin and Tracey sat a space apart from each other on the coach. They awkwardly chose to ignore each other and ignore Tracey's depraved state. She didn't bother covering herself this time and Franklin tried to keep his sexual urges to himself. It was becoming hard not to think of having full blown sex with her. Tracey's body was a truly beautiful and sexy figure to behold in the buff.

The video began to play and Franklin's heart sank. He hadn't even been able to think much on Chop's death and suddenly on the screen was Michael de Santa. Standing a few feet away from him was someone the camera couldn't see. Tracey looked over towards Franklin briefly before looking back at the screen. They both knew that it was Franklin who killed Michael but there had never been any proof and Michael's death was deemed an accident.

Michael got in his car and drove off. A car blurred towards Michael's and chased after his. Tracey began to hyperventilate a little. Franklin tried not to stare at the rise and fall of her perky boobs. The video went black before changing to the power station. Franklin froze in horror. He carefully observed Tracey's reaction as she saw Franklin on-screen to chase after her father.

'_I am such a fuckin' fool.' _

Tracey looked back at him in horror. Franklin decided to look at his lap because he was unable to face her horrified visage. Eventually, a gunshot was heard and the image of Michael falling to his death could be seen. Franklin appeared seven minutes later observing Michael's dead body before opening his cellphone and calling someone. He walked off the screen. The video stopped playing and Franklin turned the PS3 and TV off in frustration.

"You know…" began Tracey shakily, she stared straight ahead and no longer looking at him. Franklin turned to face her. He was unsure of what to say or where this would lead. "I knew it was you who did it. My mom figured it out. I read the emails you sent Jimmy and her. You were so clearly full of shit but somehow… seeing it happen… it just makes everything so much worse."

"Look… I don' even know where to start apologizin' for the shit you been through." said Franklin quietly. He attempted to keep his voice level. "I'll get yous some of my clothes and call a cab. You can leave for the airport or somethin' so that you don' have to deal with this mess."

"Leave?!" said Tracey beginning to laugh. She looked at Franklin as if he had gone insane. "Don't you understand anything? I can't leave. The snipers aren't just for you. They're for me too. I can't leave or they'll kill me."

Franklin mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't have been surprised to learn any of this. It was right up that crazy psychopath's alley. He thought of how he could get Tracey out of this.

Tracey continued. "Mr. Weston killed my mother after raping her and tortured my brother in the hotel we were in before killing him. He locked me in one of those dance cages for months to tell me to dance for him so I could be fed and beat me if I didn't. I did what I had to do so that I'd survive. I've basically been his caged dancer for this whole year. I don't even want revenge; I've lost my career, my college opportunity, my entire family, and I… I don't even know what the fuck anymore!"

Tracey's breath hitched. Tears began falling again before she stood up angrily and stared at Franklin. Franklin backed-up from the visage of utter loathing on Tracey's face.

"Just so you understand the full situation… I'm not allowed to wear any clothes or leave. He… ordered me. I'm… I've been instructed to obey. He sees women as objects to be controlled. I have to obey him or else he'll kill me like he did them. Or maybe he'll just order you to kill me? I don't even know what the fuck. But I'm not… allowed… to wear clothes."

"What?" said Franklin shocked. He couldn't help but stare guiltily at Tracey's curvy body, her boobs, and her shaven pussy. She was so desirable… if only the situation was different… if only he could…

"He's hoping that you fuck me." said Tracey plainly. Her eyes stared at him intensely. "He wants me to become pregnant so you're more easily controllable and have a stake in my survival beyond seeing me as a plaything. He probably thinks rape will make you feel guilty but either way a child will make you feel responsible. He knows enough about your background to know that you want to be a responsible parent."

"Man, what the fuck!" hollered Franklin angrily. He began moving his arms erratically in anger. "This is some fucked-up shit."

"Don't you think that I know that?!" snapped Tracey just as heatedly. "I have to be your personal whore or else I'll be killed! He wouldn't even let me grieve over my family or else it was another beating! This is your entire fault! How could you do this to my daddy and my family?! It was so obvious your emails were full of shit because of how defensive and unconcerned you were!"

Tracey stopped as she began shaking. She began hugging herself and shivering. She rubbed her arms around her shoulders to try and keep warm. Franklin just stared at her in a mixture of depression and anger. The comments had hurt but they weren't underserved. Franklin couldn't deny any of it either because of the despicable results that harmed Michael's family and now Franklin would be paying the price for the rest of his life.

"Look, let's get yous downstairs where its warmer." said Franklin wanting to avoid an argument. "Then I can get some clothes for you-"

"No!" snapped Tracey sharply. Franklin gazed at her in confusion. "They'll know! Trust me, they'll know. They probably have your house bugged. They'll come and kill me if you do that before… having your way with me."

"Ugh…" Franklin muttered in disgust and frustration. "Let's just get yous downstairs and in my room. My room should be warm. Come on, before you catch pneumonia."


End file.
